Ironic
by teamfreewill82
Summary: Hey! So this is a fic set in a present day alternate universe where there is no Hunger Games. Please read, this is my first fic posted for this fandom. :) Review and tell me if you'd like me to post the next chapter. :) Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the **_**Hunger Games**_** books; any characters and lines go to the rightful owners. A LOT OF LINES FROM THIS ARE FROM THE BOOK; IF THEY SEEM FAMILIAR, THAT'S WHY!**

I flopped on my bed, exhausted. My day of hunting was completely fruitless, and I felt like I wasted half my day. Gale, my boyfriend and one of my best friends, told me it was okay and that next time he could make and set the snares, giving the impression that it was my fault we were given nothing that day. Which, of course, set me off. So we were in a fight, something that had been fairly common as of late.

My cell phone buzzed with a text. I reached for it off my dresser. It was Gale.

**From: Hawthorne115**

**To: Catnip*12**

_Hey, Kat. Are u upset with me? I didn't mean to make you think that u were at fault; traps r just my specialty, u know that. Hunting is urs._

I had to wonder if he was kidding. How did he manage to make an 'apology' sound condescending? Though I hated conflict between Gale and I, that didn't mean that I was going to back down.

**From: Catnip*12**

**To: Hawthorne115**

_Yes, u did, Gale. And just because I'm not great with snares dsn't mean that it was my fault that the animal got thru it. Sorry I tried; you *are* the expert, right?_

I received no reply. I dropped my phone and flipped over, putting my head down on my crossed arms. My phone rang after a couple of seconds and I rolled over to grab it. Upon checking the ID, I saw it was Gale. Of course.

"Hello?" I said.

"Catnip, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry, okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, you're not, Gale. You just don't want a problem."

He breathed out; I could practically see him trying to remain collected. His calm demeanor is what really pissed me off with stuff like this. "Katniss, I know you rolled your eyes. Can we please act like the adults we are and have a conversation without that?" He knew me like the back of his hand. And being 18 in college didn't make me feel any more like an adult. When I was 11, my mom had depression, rooted from my father's sudden death. Having a kid sister to take care of, I had to grow up pretty fast. I'd been an adult for a while.

"Hey, no problem. I'm sorry I didn't make sufficient snares, Gale, that meet up with your standards," I said. "Mine work 98% of the time and today was a time when they didn't."

"Come on, Katniss. I'm not perfect either, okay? I know that, you know that. I never said that I was. It's just so confusing when you put words in my mouth," Gale told me, sounding just as tired as I felt. "I feel a little defeated."

"What're you saying?" I asked, sitting up. "You want a break or something?" A large part of me was a little relieved, thinking that maybe that would keep us from fighting so much. It had been such a strain on our friendship.

"Yeah," Gale aid after a pause. "I do love you, Catnip. You're one of my best friends. I don't want that to end."

"Maybe this will help with that," I said. "For now, let's just try to relax. No more fighting." With that settled, we said our goodbyes.

Prim walked in then and sat on my bed. I was home for the weekend; I tried to come back as often as I could on Saturday and Sunday.

"Hi, little duck," I greeted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into mine and asked quietly, "Katniss? Did you and Gale break up?"

I frowned. I knew she'd been worried about us, and herself. She had a crush on Gale's brother, Rory, for a while, as they were the same age in middle school together. She probably believed that my and Gale's issues would cause me to 'forbid' communication between them or something.

"Not totally. Don't worry, Prim. You and Rory are fine. I know how much you like him," I teased, squeezing her gently. She giggled softly and smiled. I smiled back and took my arm away, then stood in front of her. "Come on, little duck. Let's go to the bakery and get some bread for dinner." Prim nodded and allowed me to pull her up from the bed. We said goodbye to our mother and headed out. The good thing about living in a small town was that we could walk just about anywhere, and we did. Mellark's Bakery was always chock full of delicious smelling–and tasting–treats. It was the only one Prim and I would ever go to.

Prim lead the way inside and the little bell chimed, announcing our arrival. A friend of mine, Peeta Mellark, smiled at us when he turned behind the counter.

"Hey, Katniss. Hi, Prim," he greeted us.

"Hey, Peeta. How's business today?" I asked him.

"Oh, fine. What about you? How was hunting?" he inquired in reply. I didn't want to tell him with Prim here, so I sent her off to find some cookies she liked. When I did so, Peeta gave me a curious look.

I looked to him. "It didn't go too good. I got angry when Gale pretty much told me that I suck at snares when the squirrel broke free. He tried to convince me otherwise but I know him just as well as he knows me. He doesn't think I'm good. We're taking a break."

Peeta was flattening a piece of dough for a pizza when he said, "Traps are his thing, Katniss." I stared at him. Had he not heard anything I'd just said? "Don't take this the wrong way," he added quickly, "but he knows a lot more about them than you do, just like you do about hunting. You both have your talents which is what makes you two so good together. You fill in each other's blanks."

I stared out the window, frustrated. "Whoever said that opposites attract must never have been in a relationship like that. We're constantly fighting since we're both so stubborn. We're _always_ butting heads. It's so frustrating." I cradled my cheek against my palm. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it, you know?"

"Well, sometimes, Katniss, the hardest relationships to maintain are the most worthwhile, or rewarding. Get what I mean?"

I nodded, attempting a smile. "Yeah. Thanks, but I don't think I'm wrong. I don't want to apologize and give up what I think is right so we can get back together. And yeah, I know that relationships are compromise, but it doesn't seem fair to me."

Prim came back grinning at that moment, holding a few boxes of treats. "All set, little duck?" I asked her. She nodded her head and I turned to Peeta. "Okay, well, let's check out." Before he could turn away I remembered what I mainly came to Mellark's for. "Wait, Peeta, are there any more cheese buns?"

He looked regretful as he said, while checking out the cookies, "Sorry, Kat. I had to sell them. My mom made me sell the ones I had saved for you. But I'll make more for you, okay?" _Can anything go my way today? _I had to remind myself that seeing Peeta and making Prim happy were both very good things.

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks a lot, Peeta."

He must have understood the double meaning behind my words because he smiled softly at me and said sincerely, "Any time."

As Prim and I walked down the street, in my left hand I held Prim's and in my right I held the bag. We reached our driveway and saw a good friend of mine, the mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee, waiting on the porch.

"Hey, Katniss!" Madge called to me.

"Hey, Madge," I said.

She approached us nervously, fiddling with her dress. "Katniss, can I talk to you?" Her eyes flitted to Prim momentarily. "Alone?"

Slightly confused, I nodded unsurely. "Yes. Prim, can you please go inside? I'll be right in." Prim squeezed my hand softly and took the bag before going in.

I looked at Madge, my expression blank. "Is something up?" I asked.

"Well, I just feel so guilty." Uh-oh. Not a good start. I sat down on the porch, she doing the same.

"Madge, what happened?" I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Katniss, I love you, and you're my best friend. I'm so sorry–"

Panicked then, I told her, trying to keep my voice level, "Just tell me what happened, Madge."

She breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Just a short update for y'all. *smiley**

"Just tell me what happened, Madge."

She breathed. "Okay, sorry. I… Katniss, Gale and I… we… kissed a little. A small, spur of the moment kiss that doesn't–and didn't–mean anything to either of us," Madge blurted in a rush. "At all. It was last year, at the Ball."

_Betrayal_. The word spun through my head, buzzing like a fly you just can't get rid of. I stood abruptly, feeling sick. I could feel my eyes tearing up even though I've worked on hiding my emotions behind an iron mask.

"Katniss, please–" Madge started as she got to her feet, reaching for my arm.

I pulled it away like I'd get burned. But I guess I already had. "Leave, Madge. I can't talk right now," I managed. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she just nodded and stepped slowly off of the porch.

I made my way robotically inside the house, and Prim came up to me. "Katniss? Are you okay?"

I ignored her and ran up the stairs like a demon was after me, slamming my bedroom door and leaning against it, my heart pounding. I put my face in my hand and tears slowly trickled down my cheeks and hand until I was completely racked with sobs, lying on my bed. Saying I felt like shit seems like an understatement. I couldn't believe what a baby I was being but at the same time, I could. My boyfriend, my _best friend_, cheated on me with my _other_ best friend. Who cared if it was one time? He was such a hypocrite; saying how important trust was and then–I didn't even want to see him again. I picked up my phone and slammed speed dial one. When he didn't pick up, I wanted to scream. I left a message.

"I can't even believe you," I said, without any sort of intro. "I want to scream but don't think that would be a strong enough reaction. I never want to see you again, you hear me? And don't worry, Madge and I will stay friends even if you go and fuck her every night, because she, at least, doesn't criticize me every minute, and was finally _honest_ with me. We're so done it's like we never started." By then I had begun crying all over again. "We're done, Gale. Cheating on me is it. I thought… I thought after everything you at least respected me." I hung up and collapsed on my bed, sobbing like I'd never be able to stop.

A knock at the door caused me to sit up as I grabbed blindly at bundles of tissues. "Come in," I said, though I didn't feel like seeing anyone. My voice sounded stuffy. Prim opened the door slowly. When she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears, just like they always did when she saw me upset. I opened my arms for her and she wrapped her own skinny arms around my neck.

"Oh, Katniss. What happened?" she asked me.

"Gale. He cheated on me."

She gasped. "No! How could he?" Prim looked saddened and I knew that it wasn't about Gale and I.

"Prim, don't worry, okay? Rory is a sweet boy, he won't do that to you," I assured her. She nodded, but was frowning. She got up, kissed my cheek, and left the room.

A while later, there was another knock on the door. Assuming it was my sister, I said, "Come in." When the door opened, however, it was not Prim. "Peeta," I announced obviously, setting down my book.

"Prim called me and told me what happened. I'm so sorry, Kat," he told me. A fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes when he came to put an arm around my shoulders, his sympathy overwhelming. I leaned into his chest and suddenly felt exhausted again.

When I notice that his one arm was hidden, I inquired, "What's that?" Peeta grinned at me and pulled out a white bag, offering it to me. I took it and opened it, and when I looked inside, my lips widened into a grin.

"Cheese buns! Peeta!" I hugged him tightly and when I pulled away, he was smiling… lovingly at me? Sweetly? Whatever it was made me feel weird… but in a good way, I think.

"I told you that I'd make you some. I'd started when you left, leaving Vick with the pizza. They were almost done when Prim called. I figured that you needed some cheering up, Kat." He squeezed my shoulders gently. I pulled away to lie down, then smiled up at him.

"Thanks, Peeta. This means a lot."

Peeta grinned at me, shrugging. "No big deal. Hey, wanna watch a movie?"

I nodded and sat back up. "_The Heat_?"

"Ah, for the thousandth time. But whatever you say. You've had a rough day."

I felt movement on my bed and groggily opened my eyes, pretty much still asleep. Peeta. Before he could get up, I grabbed his hand in my own. "Katniss, it's late. I should go home."

I shook my head a bit, already falling back to sleep. "Stay with me…" I said tiredly. He seemed to contemplate this but climbed back in. I wrapped my arm around his torso and he held my hand. A second before I fell completely back asleep, I just barely heard him say in a whisper, "Always."


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up to Peeta's light breathing at 8:23 AM. I pressed my head against his chest and listened. I heard his heart beat, strong and steady, just like him. The events of the day before came rushing back, and I gripped him tighter. After a second I realized what I was doing and immediately let go, though I missed his warmth just as quickly.

He stirred and opened his eye a crack. He grinned at me slowly and greeted tiredly, "Mornin', beautiful." Even though I knew he was teasing, I still had to look down, trying to fight the blush I could practically feel exploding over my cheeks.

"Hey, Peeta. Thanks for last night." When the words came out, I realized how they sounded. "Uh, the cheese buns and the movie, I mean."

"Ha, no problem, Kat'. Spending time with you is no punishment," he assured me. "So what're we gonna do today?" I've got to say, I have to agree with whoever said a boy's sleepy voice is seriously the sexiest shit ever. I must've been staring because Peeta laughed and smiled at me.

"Oh, uh," I made myself say, "I don't know. Do you have any ideas?" _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Dunno. Being here is fun, I guess." Now he was the one who glanced down. _We're in my bed._ "Uh, I mean, in your house. Watching movies or something," he amended. When I heard the doorbell ring I jumped up. Prim and my mom were asleep, so I jogged down the stairs, and Peeta, who was rubbing his eyes, followed. His hair was a mess and, as I pulled open the door, I had to laugh.

When I saw who was on the porch, my laughter cut out.

"Katniss. We need to talk," Gale told me. He glanced at Peeta, or more like he glared. "What is he doing here, Katniss?"

I sighed. "It's not what it looks like, seriously. And it shouldn't matter because you and I are nonexistent as of yesterday," I said unfalteringly.

"Katniss, we need to talk," Gale repeated. "I didn't cheat on you, you know me. I didn't mean to kiss Madge. It was on impulse."

I rolled my eyes at him. "If you cared about me at all, you wouldn't have had the impulse to kiss my best friend," I stated.

Peeta rubbed his neck and took a step forward. "Guys, come on. This is pointless. Just calm down." He made the mistake of putting his left hand on the small of my back. Gale's brown eyes flitted to the movement and they blazed.

"Yeah, sure," Gale said, all condescension.

"Gale," I began tiredly.

"No, I get it. Some night, huh, pal?" he addressed Peeta.

Peeta narrowed his blue eyes at Gale. "What are you implying, Gale?" he said. "Katniss and I didn't do anything, I can promise you."  
"Sure you didn't," agreed Gale, his tone suggesting he didn't believe Peeta at all. "I'll just go with you sleeping here, most likely in Katniss's bed, as completely innocent."

"It was!" I broke in, exasperated. "God, Gale, just go."

His stubborn side making a guest appearance, he shrugged. "Why should I? Things aren't resolved yet, Katniss."

I shook my head. "And right now I don't think they will be. Leave," I said firmly.  
"Who here'll make me, Catnip?" _Is he serious? No, really, am I being punked?_ _Please, bring out the cameras and beaming man in a suit._

"Gale–"

Peeta interrupted me by stepping forward. "Me. I will. Go, Gale."

Gale's resentment towards the richer folks showed as he sneered at Peeta. "Oh, really, baker boy? You sure? Need a pack of flour to throw at me? Or are you gonna frost me to death?" Cool as ever under pressure, Gale even looked somewhat amused. I felt like slapping him. What he'd just said was totally uncalled for.

Peeta stepped outside, frowning. "Gale, I don't want to fight. Just leave, okay?" Funny that Gale seemed to be picking a fight while Peeta was working to defuse it.

"Fine, whatever. But you know, Peeta, I might keep Rory away from Prim. Cheating is hereditary. I got it from my dad, and maybe Rory did, too."

He turned and Peeta's cheeks flamed red. I wanted to slam myself into Gale but Peeta was already there. He said, "Hey, Gale." Gale looked back to him, wide open. As Peeta went to throw a punch, Gale punched Peeta in the eye. I gasped but though his eye was visibly throbbing, Peeta was unmoved. He swung and punched Gale in the nose, knocking him to the ground. Gale was clutching his nose, and I actually wanted to help him, even though he was acting like such an ass. I ran inside quickly to grab some ice, stuffed it in a bag, and when I returned to the fight, I tossed it to him.

Without another word to Gale I quickly grasped Peeta's arm and dragged him back inside. I shut the door quietly behind us, and though I felt crappy about Gale being hurt, I threw my arms around Peeta's neck. I pulled back quickly and gave him a look. "That was incredibly dumb. I can help myself." I sighed. "But thanks." I studied his face. "Look what happened to your eye."

He shrugged, and suddenly his right knee buckled. I grabbed him the best I could around the waist and brought him to the living room. My mom, a healer, had taught me some things about injuries, and because of this I decided to leave her asleep and fix him up myself. Besides, it was only one black eye. Peeta stretched out on the couch while I got him some ice. I pressed it to his eye gently and breathed out.

"Sorry about your eye, Peeta."

He just grinned at me. "I'm fine. I'm just worried about you," he admitted, becoming serious.

"Oh, I'm okay. I know he was just upset. He has a serious temper; sometimes it's just better to let him blow off steam, I guess."

Peeta sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "But what he said about Prim."

I shook my head and replied, "Gale didn't mean it. He loves Prim like he loves his younger sister, Posy. He would never hurt her on purpose, I know that for sure. So now what can we do today? Your eye probably constricts us from going on a walk, since you just nearly passed out–"

"No, let's go for a walk," Peeta said. "Fresh air. The cheese buns are gone; we can stop at the bakery and make some more."

I smiled excitedly at him. "You think I could help you make some?"

He nodded and carefully sat up. "Definitely. My mom always goes out with her friends on Saturday. Besides, baking doesn't involve too much work for my eye." He laughed, and, despite everything, I did, too.

I wiped my forehead, wet from the heat of the oven. The rolls were already in the oven as Peeta and I finished up the buns. When we had, we decided to make another batch of cheese rolls, only twelve. "Flour, please," I said. As he went to hand me the flour his grip slackened from the moisture and the bag dropped. The white powder erupted over the both of us as the bag hit the floor, and I stared down at myself; I was covered. I brought my eyes back up to rest on Peeta, slowly; he was smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, Katniss. Lost my grip."

I calmly nodded as I picked up a bag of flour. I smiled sweetly at him. "Watch me lose _my_ grip." I took a knife, cut a big hole, and dumped flour all over him. His blonde head was completely white and he sputtered out flour from his mouth. I laughed so hard I had to bend over and hold my middle. Before I knew what happened, he was dumping melted butter on my head. I whipped up and glared at him, though the entire thing was so ridiculously hilarious. The eggs. Peeta and I saw them at the same time and we lunged. I managed to grab them and flip over the carton on his head, eggs cracking everywhere. It was dripping down his head, white shirt, apron, and jeans. He grinned at me devilishly and I already knew what I had coming.

"Hey, Katniss. Can I have a huge?" he asked me.

I shook my head quickly and turned to get on the other side of the counter, but he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. I could feel the goo of the eggs soaking my back through my shirt and groaned.

"Oh my God! Let me go! I'm serious, Peeta! Damn you!" He spun me around and I saw that he was laughing. I glared at him and noticed that he was still holding me around the waist. "You're an ass," I told him seriously. He grinned but before he could respond, the devil had returned to her den.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Final chapter, everyone! I've really liked this story; I hope you have too! That long bolded italic part is from the book, not my own imagination, so I do not own it okay? Thanks! Much love. Thanks for being dolls. **

"What the hell?!" Mrs. Mellark seethed. That was about when I noticed that the bakery… was a complete and utter mess. Flour, egg, and butter were _everywhere_. And me? I was wrapped up in her son. I pulled away, embarrassed, and Peeta rubbed the back of his neck. His mom approached and he subtly pushed me behind him. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, that is, until

"Peeta! What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "Can I ever count on you for anything? Look at yourself! You're a mess! And the bakery will take hours to clean!" She raised her hand and in that instant, I had a flashback to way back when I was eleven and desperate.

_**It was during the worst time. My father had been killed in the mine accident three months earlier in the bitterest January anyone could remember. The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs.**__ Where are you? __**I would cry out in my mind. **__Where have you gone? __**Of course, there was never any answer. **_

_**The district had given us a small amount of compensation for his death, enough to cover one month of grieving at which time my mother would be expected to get a job. Only she didn't. She didn't do anything but sit propped up in a chair or, more often, huddled under the blankets on her bed, eyes fixed on some point in the distance. Once in a while, she'd stir, get up as if moved by some urgent purpose, only to then collapse back into stillness. No amount of pleading from Prim seemed to affect her. **_

_**I was terrified. I suppose now that my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well. At eleven years old, with Prim just seven, I took over as head of the family. There was no choice. I bought our food at the market and cooked it as best I could and tried to keep Prim and myself looking presentable. Because if it had become known that my mother could no longer care for us, the district would have taken us away from her and placed us in the community home. I'd grown up seeing those home kids at school. The sadness, the marks of angry hands on their faces, the hopelessness that curled their shoulders forward. I could never let that happen to Prim. Sweet, tiny Prim who cried when I cried before she even knew the reason, who brushed and plaited my mother's hair before we left for school, who still polished my father's shaving mirror each night because he'd hated the layer of coal dust that settled on everything in this town. The community home would crush her like a bug. So I kept our predicament a secret. **_

_**But the money ran out and we were slowly starving to death. There's no other way to put it. I kept telling myself if I could just hold out until May 8**__**th**__**, just May 8**__**th**__**, I would turn twelve and be able to sign up for the tesserae and get that precious grain and oil to feed us. Only there were still several weeks to go. We could well be dead by then. **_…

_**On the afternoon of my encounter with Peeta Mellark, the rain was falling in relentless icy sheets. I had been in town, trying to trade some threadbare old baby clothes of Prim's in the public market, but there were no takers. **_…_** The rain had soaked through my father's hunting jacket, leaving me chilled to the bone. For three days, we'd had nothing but boiled water with some old dried mint leaves I'd found in the back of the cupboard. By the time the market closed, I was shaking so I hard I dropped the bundle of baby clothes in a mud puddle. I didn't pick it up for fear I would keel over and be unable to regain my feet. Besides, no one wanted those clothes.**_

_**I couldn't go home. Because at home was my mother with her dead eyes and my little sister, with her hollow cheeks and cracked lips. I couldn't walk into that room with the smoky fire from the damp branches I had scavenged at the edge of the woods after the coal had run out, my hands empty of any hope. **_

_**I found myself stumbling along a muddy lane behind**_…_** some shops. The merchants live above their businesses, so I was essentially in their backyards. I remember the outlines of garden beds not yet planted for the spring, a goat or two in a pen, one sodden dog tied to a post, hunched defeated in the muck. **_…

_**When I passed the baker's, the smell of fresh bread was so overwhelming I felt dizzy. The ovens were in the back, and a golden glow spilled out the open kitchen door. I stood mesmerized by the heat and the luscious scent until the rain interfered, running its icy fingers down my back, forcing me back to life. I lifted the lid to the baker's trash bin and found it spotlessly, heartlessly bare. **_

_**Suddenly a voice was screaming at me and I looked up to see the baker's wife, telling me to move on and did I want her to call the**_…_** police and how sick she was of having**_… _**brats**_…_** pawing through her trash. The words were ugly and I had no defense. As I carefully replaced the lid and backed away, I noticed him, a boy with blond hair peering out from behind his mother's back. I'd seen him at school. He was in my year, but I didn't know his name. He stuck with the town kids, so how would I? His mother went back into the bakery, grumbling, but he must have been watching me as I made my way behind the pen that held their pig and leaned against the far side of an old apple tree. The realization that I'd have nothing to take home had finally sunk in. My knees buckled and I slid down the tree trunk to its roots. It was too much. I was too sick and weak and tired, oh, so tired. **__Let them call the police and take us to the community home, __**I thought. **__Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain. _

_**There was a clatter in the bakery and I heard the woman screaming again and the sound of a blow, and I vaguely wondered what was going on. Feet sloshed toward me through the mud and I thought, **__It's her. She's coming to drive me away with a stick. __**But it wasn't her. It was the boy. In his arms, he carried two large loaves of bread that must have fallen into the fire because the crusts were scorched black. **_

_**His mother was yelling, "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!" He began to tear off chunks from the burned parts and toss them into the trough, and the front bakery bell rung and his mother disappeared to help a customer. **_

_**The boy never even glanced my way, but I was watching him. Because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood out on his cheekbone. What had she hit him with? My parents never hit us. I couldn't even imagine it. The boy took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then, his attention back on the pigs, he threw a loaf of bread in my direction. The second quickly followed, and he sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly behind him.**_

_**I stared at the loaves in disbelief. They were fine, perfect really, except for the burned areas. Did he mean for me to have them? He must have. Because there they were at my feet. Before anyone could witness what had happened I shoved the loaves under my shirt, wrapped the hunting jacket tightly around me, and walked swiftly away. The heat of the bread burned into my skin, but I clutched it tighter, clinging to life.**_

All of this flew through my mind in that instant. Before she could strike the blow, I jumped forward to receive it instead. Peeta caught me as I fell back, a welt already forming on my cheek the same as he'd had years ago. His mother gasped and appeared as though she were about to apologize, but Mr. Mellark walked through the entrance at that moment. He took in the mess and gave a sort of laugh before his wife spun around and he coughed.

"Uh, Peeta. What happened here?" A glance at me and his jaw kind of unhinged. "Katniss, what on earth–?"

To this day, the look in Peeta's eyes… It's the angriest I've ever seen him. He was _livid_.

"Mom hit her," he snapped. "She was going to slap me but Katniss stepped in front." Without another word, and despite his anger, Peeta pulled me out the door with all the gentleness he had, up the side entrance, and into their house.

He set me down me on his bed and his hand lifted to pull at his mouth, something I'd seen Gale do when he was upset.

"Peeta, I'm fine…"

Peeta shook his head firmly. "No. No. She _hit_ you. Hitting me, that's whatever. I can deal with her. But you… No. She can't hurt you."

Confused, I shook my head as well, trying to comprehend what was going on. Of course his mother hitting Peeta was unacceptable and I couldn't believe it, but me? "Peeta, really. Why is it such a big deal?"

Unexpectedly, Peeta sat down next to me. "Katniss…" He trailed off and seemed to make an internal decision. "We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair… it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

"Your father? Why?" I asked.

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" Peeta told me.

"What? You're making that up!" I exclaimed.

"No, true story. And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he told me, 'Because when he sings… even the birds stop to listen.'"

I nodded, smiling slightly. "That's true. They do. I mean, they did." I'd been stunned that he remembered that specific day, but also confused. What was the point of his story?

"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," Peeta said quietly.

"Oh, please," I said. I was laughing a little, but only because I really didn't know how to react.

"No, it happened. And right when your song ended," he said, "I knew–just like your mother–I was a goner. Then for the next nine years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you. I did when we were fourteen."

For a moment, I was almost foolishly happy, in the way where your brain seems to stop what it's doing, and then confusion swept over me again.

"But… does that mean… You…" I hesitated. Peeta's story had a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I had sung the first day of school, although I hadn't remember the song. And that red plaid dress… there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father's death.

It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta had taken a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So if those details were true… could it all be true? I had no words. I blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"You have a… remarkable memory," I said, haltingly.

"I remember everything about you," he murmured. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

I swallowed. For the first time in my life, Peeta Mellark was making me feel nervous. "I am now."

Peeta shrugged. "Well, with Gale pretty much gone, I don't have much competition here."

_Say it, Katniss. You want to._ "You don't have much competition anywhere." Then I was leaning in. Or, you could say falling, if you wanted to be cliché.


End file.
